Highland Portrait

by Shelagh Mercedes

  “Ye have had a time of it, my love?” he asked gently, rubbing her back.

  Stella laughed quietly, “Aye, ye have the right of it, Robbie.” She buried her nose in his neck wanting to find comfort there. Sitting outside her mother’s croft everything felt different this morning. The wind alternated between brisk coolness and smooth warmth, like the seasons had somehow forgotten their order, as if they were confused. The air smelled one moment of salt, the next of pine, and then of grass. She thought she heard an ocean in the distance but could not distinguish it from the wind. Perhaps her confusion came from the knowledge that her life had been altered in so many ways in such a short period of time. Gone was the Stella of a week ago, hustling after commissions, drinking boxed wine, wearing tight jeans and dancing the two-step at honky-tonks. Here, sitting on the lap of her beloved was a woman newly borne, with two parents instead of one, and a citizen of a time and place not her own.

  “Where did ye come by this, lass?” Robbie was looking jealously at her bracelet. “Who gave ye this?” he scowled and wanted to hunt down and maim whoever had the temerity to give his betrothed a gift. He was especially angry because he had not thought of giving her a gift first. In fact, he felt like a complete and utter fool.

  “Elinor and the MacDougall,” she said eyes opening wide, gracefully reaching her hand out to show off the bauble. “they liked the drawing I did and gave me this. Isn’t it stunning? I love it, Robbie, I’ve never had such a fine piece of jewelry.”

  Robbie could only arch his eyebrows at the piece and he thought about what a dunce he was. His mother’s jewelry was hid away in his own chambers and he had not thought about giving it to Stella and now his aunt and uncle had given her a piece that set her eyes on fire. He was glad it was them and not any other, but he was still cross with himself for not being the first to gift her with jewels, but he would remedy that when they returned to the castle.

  Robbie could still detect the subtleness of what remained of lilacs in her hair and it burned into his memory like a brand hot and white and unforgettable and added fuel to the fire that already burned in his chest. A look of deepest seriousness replaced the excited smile on her lips and her eyes opened wider as if to see deeper into his soul, and slowly but deliberately she raised her hands to his face. Never taking her eyes from his, she stroked the outline of his chin and then his cheeks letting the finger tips rest like feathers on his lips. It was a message. A word. A volume. Written in a language he could understand without sound and without explanation.

  It wasn't her touch or the love he held for her that caused his knees to weaken and his feet to shuffle and change position ever so slightly. Rather it was the invitation that she extended so earnestly that caused him to feel light-headed. He moved his own hands to hers and held them softly against his lips. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fragrance of her hands and pursed his lips against her finger tips and kissed them lightly, drinking in their taste. He opened her hands and kissed each palm, slowly and deliberately pausing carefully as his mind cataloged each new sensations. She could see and feel and sense the emotion in his eyes and the gentle tremor in his hands told the story of the blaze that was consuming both of their hearts and she smiled gently in response and closed her eyes again, sighing softly.

  He placed her hands on his chest, holding them there with his own hands and drew her closer. He could feel the warmth and strength and solidness of her womanhood against him. It seemed as if she had been made for him, and he for her, as their bodies pressed gently against each other and all at once, two pieces of a puzzle were joined and mated perfectly. He felt her head nestle tightly against his neck and for the moment, was satisfied with the closeness and tenderness of the warmth she brought that seemed to encompass his soul...and he closed his eyes and dreamt of things only his heart could imagine. And then she raised her face to his, moved her hands to his neck and gently but insistently urged his lips to her own.

  Robbie’s arms slid along her thigh and reached around to her buttocks, pulling them closer still. “Stella, Stella, my love,” Robbie’s breathing was quick and ragged.

  She opened her eyes to his voice. She had been trapped in the closeness of Robbie and had not thought about where they were. She pressed him back.

  “Robbie, we’ll most likely be disturbed by my father when he comes out. Come, you must be hungry, Mama and I have made a good breakfast, let’s go in.” she reluctantly moved off his lap letting her hand slide over his stiffness. He caught her hand and pressed it harder against his desire, and groaned, his eyes closed. Stella smiled.

  Robbie groaned, “Aye, Stella, I am hungry, but not for food.”

  “Perhaps we can find a pleasant place by the stream after breakfast. We could…uh…talk about things,” her soft chuckle opened his eyes and he grabbed her neck, bringing her to his lips and kissed her hard.

  “Aye, lass, we will ‘talk’.” Robbie stood up and took a deep breath, allowing his blood to climb back into his brain where it belonged so he could be fit company for Albert and Merry. He followed Stella back to the croft watching her bottom sway with an undulating movement that ensorcelled him. She may not be of the fae, but she was magic.

  Stella was looking at the stone pathway that he and Albert had built.

  “Robbie, look at this sidewalk. It’s amazing. Can you see how the stones, all fit together almost perfectly. I wonder who did this?” One of her great attractions was her use of words. He did not know ‘sidewalk’, but guessed that it meant path. He would be ever grateful to her, and to Albert, for words. They were the coins of their realm and they spent them lavishly and generously. He chuckled.

  “Aye, it is a right good ‘sidewalk’. Looks like fae work to me. Yes, ‘tis the work o’ the faeries.”

  Stella looked closely at the stones and merely nodded in agreement. “Well, considering what I’ve been through I’m totally inclined to believe just about anything today.”

  “I need to be back in Oban on the morrow, Albert,” Robbie filled his bowl once more with porridge and honey, tearing a large piece of Merry’s barley bread and dipping it into the honey, and ate heartily. Stella thought that were he not a warrior, a man inclined to movement and action, he would become quite a pudge, but she knew that often he would go for extended periods of time without a lot of calories so his excesses were quickly absorbed and burnt up. “It would please me that ye and Merry accompany us.”

  Albert looked up from his own bowl and raised his eyebrows at Merry. “What do you think, Merry, would a trip to Oban suit you?”

  Merry smiled and kissed Albert on the cheek, “Aye, Albert, I would like that verra much.” Stella had busied herself cleaning and putting away the dishes and had been amused to find odd bits of the 21st century lying about among Merry’s belongings. She had a jar of peanut butter hidden in a wooden box along with a wire whisk, spatula, a fork and a bottle of olive oil. Albert had obviously taken care of her, brining her little niceties without putting her at too much risk at being labeled a witch. Albert pointed his spoon at Robbie. “I’ve promised Merry that I would clean out her well today, she believes something may have fallen in there. I could use your help, lad. Shouldn’t take too long, I think. Then I’d like to make some repairs around the croft for her.”

  Robbie looked at Stella quickly and knew that their afternoon tryst would now be an evening tryst, but he could not deny Albert or Merry his labor.

  “Aye, Albert, we will fix Merry’s well,” he said and was glad that he could serve the mother of his betrothed.

  Albert and Robbie worked well into the late afternoon at their tasks while Stella and Merry continued their mutual discovery of each other with the comfortable intimacy of working side by side to clean what Stella thought was an already immaculate house. Stella gave Merry her last granola bar and her emergency first aid supplies, bandaids, gauze and some bacterial ointment. Merry seemed quite comfortable with these items, and not at all surprised at them. Albert had been generous with her, w
ithin reasonable cultural limitations because he feared for her safety, and she had grown accustomed to items that others might have been branded as magical. She particularly like hand lotion and she showed Stella her small pot of white cream. Albert had insisted on taking the container back with him, and Merry had stored her precious lotion is a small crockery pot.

  She offered Stella the small pot of lotion, but Stella shook her head, she would not take from her mother’s precious stores of what she could get so easily and cheaply. She promised herself that she would make sure that Merry had the finest hand lotion in the future, along with some other little female trivialities that her father would never have thought about. Including toilet paper.

  Robbie, killed a small deer and after he and Albert had cleaned and butchered it Stella cooked a large roast of venison while Merry and the two men preserved the rest. Merry had plenty of vegetables, and Stella made mashed potatoes and gravy, a new experience for both Robbie and Merry. Robbie especially like them and was adamant that Stella teach the castle cooks how to make them.

  As the evening approached Merry offered to make a pallet for Robbie and Stella by the fireplace, but Robbie insisted that they would be fine in the barn. Stella, having spent one night in a barn, thought she could deal with that as long as she had Robbie to keep her warm and a blanket to keep the hay from her skin.

  The sun had long since slipped behind the hillside and in its place a full moon crystallized the night and added sparkle to the cool foggy air that spilled from the surrounding cliffs and rose from the wide stream nearby. Robbie and Stella, carrying plaids and a warm blanket, that Stella had a suspicion may have been a WalMart purchase, walked in companionable silence to the barn. They had each had a long day filled with people that they loved, working as a team to provide safety and comfort for Merry. Stella was tired, but looking forward to being alone again with Robbie.

  Robbie fed and watered all the horses and goats while Stella made a comfortable bed for them in the small loft of the barn. She insisted that Robbie put Ferghus up in the loft to rout out any rats and after he sniffed for a time, finding nothing, and then sprawled out on the blankets she felt it would be okay to sleep there.

  Fog, quiet as a Scottish wildcat, moved in wispy tendrils across the croft yard, the full moon reflecting its light and setting the entire hillside to glow. Robbie stood at the barn door stretching his shoulders, listening for the stream. He had pulled Ferghus down from the loft and rather than go out in the night to chase whatever it was that caught his fancy, the dog had elected to stay at Stella’s side, happy with her company.

  She climbed down from the loft and stood at the door with Robbie. He looked into her golden eyes and wanted to fill the silence with words. He tried to conjure up words out of the darkness as if they waited only for his voice, words that were long and short, tender and soft. Words that would dance across the barn and wrap Stella in love, tickling her skin. He wanted to say words that explained exactly how much he loved her, how important she was to him. Words that would paint a picture of their future, their children, their coupling. But there were none. Only the wordless wonder of being close to her, standing at this barn door holding her close to him and the world suddenly did not need words. Only their hearts.

  He put his arms around her and she closed her eyes as their lips met, softly at first and then with a hunger born of need that had grown steadily that day. Their tongues were on fire then, probing, searching and finding satisfaction and excitement in each other's taste and response. She sighed quietly, shivering in the darkness and he responded with deeper, more guttural sounds and senses, shivering himself and drew her even closer. Their bodies met full length, warmth against warmth, despite their clothing, and rested against each other, undulating slowly in primal ways. They were alone now and passionately in need.

  Robbie nuzzled her hair, drinking in the arresting aroma of her scent, the silken feel of her hair, the tantalizing sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest.

  “The stream, Stella, come.” Robbie took her hand and together they walked through the thick forest along a well worn path that Stella thought her mother must have traveled many times. It gave her a sense of belonging to be where her mother had walked, where she now walked and she felt that connection keenly and with gladness. Robbie led her not far from the croft to a good sized stream, kissed with moonlight and fog, the stars reflecting on the pooled surface. Stella caught her breath at the beauty of the place where nature put on a spectacular show using only moonlight and water.

  On the edge of the pool was a large flat rock thrusting out several feet over the water, a platform for sitting or kneeling over the water to fill buckets. Robbie stood on it now, removing his clothes and placing a piece of soap he had borrowed from Merry on the edge of it. He tossed his clothes in the water close to shore to rinse them of the dirt and mud and sweat of his day and Stella watched him now, splendidly naked, as he spread them on branches. He walked back onto the rock and jumped lightly into the pool that came up just past his waist.

  She stood on the wide flat rock and watched him wash himself of the labors of the day smiling at her as he touched himself, his hands rubbing the soap across a chest that was thick and wide, arms and shoulders potent with strength. Immersing himself completely in the water he sprang up cutting the surface like Poseidon, a demi-god so dazzling in his magnificence that it took Stella’s breath away. He looked at her and motioned with his eyes for her to come in.

  “Join me, my Faerie Queen,” he winked at her and sent a playful spray of water her way. She jumped back and giggled. She knew that she was not his equal in beauty or majesty, but cared little for that. Her own small charms were enough for him and she would let him fill himself of them this evening. She took off her boots and set them on the dry bank, followed by her apron and dress. She pulled the ribbon from her braid and pulled her fingers through her hair, letting the breeze blow her hair into a tangled profusion. She then turned to walk out on the rock in her chemise. Robbie watched her every movement memorizing how her hips swayed and her hair, unbound and moving in the wind as if it were not hair at all, but the wings of blackbirds, ready to take flight.

  She gently pulled the chemise up, her crossed arms framing her head. Her round full breasts fell free from the cloth bobbing in an intoxicating dance. Rich and firm they held his attention with their movements, causing his mouth to water. He loved looking at her breasts and she loved to have him watch. He knew the taste of them and the feel of her nipples against his tongue and it stiffened him and erased all thoughts of ought but her.

  He stepped to the side of the rock and reached upward, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her into the pooled stream, sliding her slowly down his body. Grabbing her hair he pressed her open mouth upward and plunged his tongue deep inside tasting her sweetness and feverish need. Pressing her tongue onto his she echoed his movements letting her tongue dart in and out, demanding response. She arched up and he lifted her slightly, bending to her breasts, filling his mouth with the heaviness of each one, suckling until she moaned.

  As much as he wanted to feel himself inside her, feel her heat and wetness surround him again, his need to taste her overcame him. Swiftly he grabbed her hand and guided her to the side of the rock and lifting her he set her on the edge with her legs dangling in the water. He gently pushed her back and she lay flat waiting, smiling in approval. He placed himself between her legs and grabbing underneath her he pulled her hips to the edge. She spread her legs, balancing them on the rock giving him access to her.

  He touched the firmness of her thighs and was thrilled at the beauty of her legs. He nibbled at her inner thigh, his hands holding onto her legs just above the back of knees, gently as if to beg permission and encourage her opening. She responded by tossing her head back and lifting her leg until it settled over his shoulder and then moved her other leg as well.

  Her cooing whimpers turned to moans when he spread her legs wide enough to place his head snugly in
to the welcoming moistness of her opened thighs. His hands slid easily beneath her buttocks, cupping their fleshy softness until he had a firm control of her movements. He wanted her to know him, to know the power and fire in his mouth and the tender sweetness of his tongue deep within her and he would not let her escape no matter how she moved. As his lips approached her warmth, she arched her back slightly to meet him, the invitation complete and he bent to her, slowly and deliberately, to a task that took his breath away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It delighted Stella to see her parents snuggling atop Albert’s black gelding. Merry rode in front of Albert, his arms holding her tightly, whispering in her ear, she giggling like a teenager. Robbie had taken the lead with Stella close behind and Albert and Merry lagging in the rear. Robbie smiled at Stella every time he turned to look at the couple, completely surprised at Albert’s behavior. The whole family seemed rather strange but they were each in their own right extraordinary. Merry was a healer of some skill, Stella an artist of extraordinary talent and Albert was a scholar who had opened up areas of science to him that broadened his thinking and his capacity to absorb information in a rational manner. This was a family he was happy to be associated with and he would always hold each of them in the highest esteem.

  He saw that Stella, too, was surprised to see her father acting like a besotted fool, but she was smiling with approval nonetheless. Robbie thought that Albert was not the only besotted fool, for he had only to look at Stella and he fell more deeply in love at each glance. Their tryst at the moonlit stream had been the beginning of a night of passion and though each time he entered her he had been sated, his hunger for her only grew more intense.